


Hetalia: Two Scenes from a Practical Marriage.

by bunnyfication



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyfication/pseuds/bunnyfication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweden and Norway, near the beginning and in the end. Norway <i>is</i> kind, in his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hetalia: Two Scenes from a Practical Marriage.

**1816**

A lone figure was sitting on a snow covered hill, staring down at the city sprawled ahead. It should have looked pretty, in the dark with its sprinkles of lights. All Sweden saw was the dirty slush he knew the darkness was hiding.

He let the bottle fall from his hand. It made a dull thunk as it hit the ground. Empty, just like he was feeling. Cold too, despite the deceptive warmth of the alcohol in his blood.

What had Norway said? That he wouldn't bother dragging him inside if he fell asleep in the snow again. Like Sweden had ever asked him to do so.

Would Finland have, if he was still here, he wondered. Then again, knowing him, he'd have probably been drunk himself, trusting Sweden to drag _him_ to warmth.

A brief, melancholy smile flickered on Sweden's face, and then guttered out.

Finland couldn't trust Russia to do that, could he? Not Russia with all his scattered interests, not that that had apparently stopped him from...Sweden pressed a hand over his mouth, a roil of dull anger and nausea in his stomach.

Those bruises on Tino's neck the last time they'd met, how he'd paled and refused to meet Sweden's eyes when he'd realized he was seeing them.

 _"It's fine."_ Finland had said, evasively. Sweden didn't know what his face had been like, then, but his anger must have been showing. He'd wanted to go to Russia right then, might have, if it hadn't been for the look Finland gave him, angry and almost defiant.

 _"Don't you dare interfere; it's none of your business! Not anymore."_ Finland had hissed.  
 _"B't-"_  
 _Look, Sweden, it's not like he...I'm not hurt. So, just. Let it go."_ He'd flushed at having to say the words, shamed, so Sweden hadn't said anything more on the subject.

Frankly, he didn't much care if he fell asleep here. It probably wouldn't kill him, and if it did...well, death would be peaceful, at least. He was so damn _tired_ of fighting, and had been for a while already.

He did have to give it to Russia; apparently he was being relatively nice to Finland. Not counting...those bruises, Finland had seemed in pretty good shape the few times they'd met lately. Not moving like he had serious wounds he wouldn't admit to, like he'd been all too often in their last years together.

He'd always put on a brave face, like Sweden didn't know he was hurt. Like he didn't know it was _his_ fault.

To hell with it, thinking of it was useless. He stood up in a sudden bout of directionless anger, and staggered into the cold night.

He ended up at his yard, stumbling on a chopping block with an axe in it. Sweden cursed and kicked at the defenceless block, and then stared at the axe.

It was a rusted, dull thing. Yet, it reminded him of other things. Of sharper edges, dimmed by other things than rust.

A child, too proud to beg, but his eyes blank with terror. His Finland with bloodstains on his face, not his own that time, but the sight had still hurt. A field of dead soldiers, their colours muddied unrecognizable.

_Never again, please, never again._

He tried to close his eyes against the images, but it didn't work, just brought them more vividly, so he went on. No less murky inside his home. Norway had probably gone to sleep long ago. Sweden kept running into furniture, cursing as he bruised his shins.

Norway might wake up, with how sound kept echoing in this place...Sweden stopped, suddenly thrown. Echoing? But the only part that really echoed...

Oh.

He'd gotten lost, in his own home. Sweden laughed, but it sounded too strange in his voice, even to himself. There was no one to listen here though, was there? This huge wing he'd built, for people who...were not here. Hadn't wanted to be.

"Useless," he said quietly.

Now when he was looking, he could see a little in the dark. Furniture here and there. Mostly unused, all of it. He fumbled for a lamp on a nearby table, digging out the fire making tools from his pocket.

It was difficult to use them with his unsteady hands. The spark, when he finally managed it, was unexpected. Burned his hand, so he dropped it with a small yell, and the sharp movement of his hand teetered over the lamp as well.

He blinked at the burning puddle of lamp oil. Well, that didn't go quite as intended either. Figured.

Sweden felt suddenly rather...calm, or perhaps just tired. He didn't feel like stopping the fire. Just let it burn; get rid of this place that kept reminding him unnecessarily. Of things he didn't have anymore, and of things he'd never had to begin with.

He slid down the wall, coughing a bit from the smoke. There wasn't much of it, yet, but the fire seemed to be catching on nicely.

When someone opened the large doors on the other side, the flames leaped higher, catching on to the heavy curtains nearby. Velvet burned well too, apparently.

Norway looked...mildly annoyed. He was holding a lamp in one hand.

"What...Sweden," Norway said sharply, his eyes narrowing at the last, as if the other's presence was explanation enough.

"T'was an accid'nt," Sweden mumbled diffidently, and Norway huffed, walking fast across the floor to haul him up and drag him out of the increasingly smoky room.

By the time they got out they were both coughing, with tears streaming out of their eyes. Once they were out and a safe distance away, Norway let Sweden slump down onto the frozen mud, and rubbed at his face. Sweden had never seen Norway actually cry, so he looked very strange like that.

"What are you staring at?" Norway asked flatly, and then made to walk away, presumable to get help. He turned on his heels though, and gave Sweden a weighing look. Suspicious? Worried? It was difficult to tell with Norway.

"Can I trust you to stay here?" he asked, for some inexplicable reason. Where would Berwald be going?

"'es," he answered, puzzled.

Norway shook his head, expression inscrutable, and walked away.

It was a long night. Sweden went to help in putting out the fire, as soon as he started feeling more steady on his feet. Everyone worked hard, not wanting the fire to spread, but it wasn't easy. Took them all of that night, and a fair bit of the morning, before the last smouldering piece of timber had been put out.

Gradually the others left, slumped, tired figures that wouldn't be of much use at work that day. Sweden walked around the ashes, stamping and kicking out nonexistent fires to smother the guilt digging at him.

"Hey, you'd better get out of there, those stairs could collapse on you!"

Norway looked uncommonly ruffled, his hair charred in places, and his face black from soot. His expression was still as smooth as ever though.

"Sweden, I'd rather not dig you out," Norway repeated calmly.

Sweden shrugged and stepped away, balancing on the revealed stone foundation. It felt hot under his soles, still.

They sat on a garden bench, staring at the wreckage of the house in silence for a long time.

Sweden turned at last, to find Norway giving him that weighing look again.

"What were you doing?" he asked neutrally.

Sweden shrugged again.

"Next time you decide to burn the boat, tell me first. So I can jump off."

"...'ry."

Norway's mouth twitched downwards, just once, but enough for Sweden to realize he was displeased.

And then he realized what it must have looked like to Norway. What he’d meant when he'd asked whether he'd stay put.

"Didn't...t'wasn't on purp'se," he mumbled sheepishly, earning another long look from Norway.

"Good," was all he said.

The new wing was ruined, of course. The older, core parts of the house survived, though they needed some rebuilding. But that was ok, it was nice to have something to do.

Norway kept an eye on him, but Sweden didn't really mind that either. Somehow he felt...lighter, now.

He told Norway, who just raised an eyebrow, noting that ships that were too heavy never sailed well, as he should well know.

Sweden paused then, glass halfway to his lips, as they were eating at the time. And then he shook his head and went on. What else could one do?

*

**1905**

Sweden woke up to the sound of the floorboards creaking. He blinked towards the roof for a moment, and then went to inspect the source of the sounds.

He found Norway, packing his few possession remaining at Sweden's house into a small suitcase. He glanced briefly at Sweden standing in the doorway, and then went back to packing.

"Ya could've gotten 'em later," Sweden noted.

"Wanted to get it over with," Norway answered coolly, pushing the suitcase closed with a final click.

Sweden frowned, but...well, there wasn't really any reason to fight at this point, even if he'd wanted to.

"Ya're w'lcom' t' visit 'nyt'me, 'course," he said instead, to be polite, and was answered by a placid nod.

Norway crossed the few steps between them, holding out a hand. Sweden hesitated for a moment, and then shook the offered limb.

"Dont rem'mber badly?" he asked, hopefully.

Norway shrugged, with a tight, polite smile. It didn't really reach his eyes, but with Norway one could usually only expect one or the other, not both.

Except then Norway's face softened, just a fraction, and he raised one hand to pat Sweden’s shoulder.

"Well, not _too_ badly," Norway conceded, in a dry tone that was his equivalent of fond exasperation. "I'm just glad I won't be connected to any idiocy you get up to anymore...or anyone else's, for that matter."

They both knew who he was talking about. Sweden realized Norway looked uncommonly happy now, excited to set out on his own. And who was he to begrudge him that?

"I...good luck, w'th ever'thing," Sweden mumbled.

"Thanks," Norway said.

And that was that.


End file.
